


Etiquette

by draculard



Category: Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/F, Lets be real Miss Havisham isnt taking that wedding dress off just for sex, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 20:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20159764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Miss Havisham teaches her to hate men.





	Etiquette

The hands of her playmates mean nothing to Estella. They are grubby and small; they play in the dirt; they wind their fingers ‘round skipping ropes and leather balls. They snatch at her finest dresses; they dirty the lace at her wrists.

Her time with Miss Havisham is never so coarse.

Miss Havisham’s fingers are long and slender, pale beneath the candlelight. She teaches Estella how to move just like a lady, how to set her shoulders, how to walk with grace. She teaches Estella the proper movements of her hands in every situation.

Miss Havisham has written her own etiquette rules.

One must always refuse a gentleman when he asks for a dance, she says. One must not hesitate to eat bread whole when one pleases; there is no need to break it into little morsels for the sake of politeness. 

And one must always — _always_ — let Miss Havisham know when something feels unpleasant.

But that’s never an issue for Estella. She loves nothing more than the feeling of Miss Havisham’s fingers spreading her labia, each stroke tender and soft. She adores Miss Havisham’s lips on her skin, kissing her way over Estella’s naked breasts, over her navel, down her hips.

She would kill a man to feel Miss Havisham’s tongue on her clit again. She would crush his heart gladly. She cares not who he is, how kind, how pure, how gentlemanly. This ecstasy is all she craves: her fingers curled in Miss Havisham’s silk sheets; that old lace wedding veil tickling her stomach, trailing over her skin; that tongue. That glorious tongue.

Miss Havisham teaches her to hate men.


End file.
